


Over the Edge and Down

by fannishliss



Series: Kink List [26]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1920s psychiatry maybe not the best, Angst, Bucky panics, Cold, Edgeplay, Grieving, Guilt, Kink Meme, M/M, Marriage, Restraints, Steve reacts, Steve restrains Bucky against his will, True Love, being held, hydrotherapy, kink adjacent, now with more legitimate therapy, probably not a good idea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: Bucky and Steve are married now and living together in Brooklyn, but Bucky still has his bad days.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my kink list, Edge Play. Note that Edge Play is about going beyond a person's hard limits, and is not the same as Edging, which is backing off from the edge of orgasm. 
> 
> In this story, Steve restrains Bucky without Bucky's consent. It is not in the context of play, but, it is where the idea of going past their hard limits led me.

 

Steve rolled over in bed, and reached out for Bucky, and Bucky wasn’t there. 

 

It was early, even for them.The time on his phone said 3:18. 

 

Steve lifted his head off the pillow to see if he could hear his husband somewhere in the house.If Bucky was being stealthy, even Steve’s ears wouldn’t detect him.But it sounded like he was in the kitchen. The super soldier metabolism did sometimes demand a feeding in the middle of the night. 

 

Steve rolled out of bed, pulled on some soft pants, and went to find out what Bucky was making. 

 

Nothing, it turned out.Bucky was on his hands and knees, scrubbing at the kitchen floor by hand with a soapy cloth. 

 

"Hey, Bucky,” Steve said. 

 

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky returned. 

 

“Did you spill something?” Steve asked. 

 

“No,” Bucky said, working on the tiles intently.

 

The gleaming tile floor was clean as a dinner plate.Steve had bought the the townhouse where they had lived back in the 30s, and he’d had the living quarters fully modernized and restored to historical perfection. Steve, raised by a nurse, had been well-trained to keep things spic and span at all times, so their floor never really had a chance to get dirty.Bucky, the eldest of a pack of four wild Barneses, had grown up in a state of controlled chaos kept barely in check by a strong-willed mother, so he could be sloppy, but he also knew that Steve liked things to be neat and clean, so he gave it some effort. 

 

Still, it was odd behavior for Bucky.Scrubbing the floor in the middle of the night wasn’t something either one of them would normally get out of bed to go and do. 

 

“You sure you want to be out here scrubbing in the middle of the night?” Steve asked. 

 

“Mmm,” Bucky said.It was the noise he made when he was conflicted, a noise Steve was coming to recognize. 

 

Just because Bucky’s trigger words had been deactivated didn’t mean he was all better and back to the old Bucky.Steve and Bucky were both in therapy, trying to learn how to cope with everything that had happened to them.Steve knew that Bucky had been terribly abused, and Steve’s outpouring of love and devotion couldn’t make that trauma magically go away.Plus, Steve knew that Bucky suffered under a terrible weight of guilt and sorrow for the awful crimes HYDRA had used him to commit.Those things added up, and it meant that Bucky would never regain the innocence of the guy Steve had fallen for when he they were kids. 

 

It meant that sometimes Steve would find Bucky on his hands and knees in the darkest hours of the night, scrubbing and scrubbing at an already pristine floor. 

 

Steve wasn’t all that sleepy — neither he nor Bucky really needed much sleep — but their therapists had pointed out how important it was to try and keep to a regular sleep schedule.Even super soldier brains needed time to dream and rejuvenate.And Bucky and Steve in particular needed time to cuddle and rest, skin to skin.They slept naked, pressed close and twined around each other, and sleeping like that was one of the things about this new life that Steve cherished most. 

 

Steve was pretty sure that Bucky out here pointlessly scrubbing didn’t do much to improve anyone’s quality of life.

 

“I feel,” Steve said, slowly and clearly.It was a thing the therapists made them practice. 

 

Bucky cocked an ear to show that he was trying to listen. 

 

“I will feel more heard if you put down that rag and look at me,” Steve said. 

 

Bucky’s wiping hand slowed, and stopped, but didn’t quite let go of the rag. Slowly, Bucky lifted his eyes from the floor. 

 

“I feel, that the middle of the night is for sleeping,” Steve said.“I feel, like I want my husband in my arms, more than I want such a well-scoured floor.” 

 

“Mmm,” Bucky said, his eyes dropping back down. 

 

“What do you feel right now, Buck?” Steve prompted.He was tired of looming over Bucky, and he sat down on the floor in a spot that was dry. 

 

“I feel terrible,” Bucky whispered.“Every time I close my eyes.It’s awful.I can’t stand it.All I can see is the blood.” 

 

“I’m so sorry, Buck,” Steve said.“I wish I could make it all go away.Can I help? Can I hug you, maybe?” 

 

Bucky’s eyes squinched tight and he shuddered, then with effort he looked up at Steve. “There’s only one thing that’s ever made it go away,” Bucky said. 

 

“What?” Steve said, with a little smile. 

 

“The chair,” Bucky said. Before Steve could recover from the shocking words, Bucky's body was wracked by a terrible shudder, almost a convulsion, as he slammed his forehead to the floor, arching his back in a horrible subservient position.

 

“Please,” Bucky begged. His mouth was tightly closed, his teeth gritted together, but Steve could hear the word trying to force itself out through Bucky’s desperate control. “Please,” he whined, like a wounded animal. 

 

 

“Bucky, sh, it’s okay,” Steve blathered, afraid to touch.All the words the therapists had told him to say flew out the window. 

 

“Steve,” Bucky sobbed, “make it stop. Please, make it stop!” 

 

“How?” Steve said, hands hovering over Bucky. 

 

“I don’t know,” Bucky moaned.“Just, please, I can’t stand it.” 

 

“Can I touch you?” Steve asked. 

 

“Yes,” Bucky cried. 

 

In a flash, Steve gathered him up and pulled his anguished husband into his arms, rocking him back and forth, crying as Bucky whimpered.Every muscle of Bucky’s huge body was tight as a bowstring, straining against the horrors flooding through his mind. 

 

“Sh,” Steve said.“I’m here, I’m here.You’re not alone.I love you, God, I love you so much, Buck.I’m so sorry,” he babbled, tears streaming down his face. 

 

“Tighter,” Bucky said.“Don’t let go, please don’t let go.” 

 

Steve held Bucky as tight as he could. 

 

“Get, get on top of me,” Bucky panted. 

 

Steve stretched Bucky out on the floor and lay down on top of him.They were so close to the same size now. Bucky was broader in the shoulder, and thicker all over, while Steve was just an inch taller.It was so strange to Steve, even now, that he was bigger than Bucky, who’d always loomed large in Steve’s mind’s eye, perfect, heroic, unassailable. 

 

“Tighter,” Bucky begged. 

 

Steve wound his limbs as tight around Bucky as he could, but Bucky couldn’t stop thrashing. Steve wracked his brain for some way to calm Bucky down.Whisky did nothing for them, and it had been a while since Thor’s gift of Asgardian mead, though carefully rationed, had at last run out. None of the drugs the therapists had suggested had had any effect on Bucky’s enhanced physiology. 

 

At last Steve thought of something. 

 

“Hydrotherapy,” he gasped, struggling to hold Bucky down as tight as he could. 

 

“huh?” Bucky said. 

 

“My ma told me about it, the year she worked at the asylum.Wrap you up like a mummy, pour cold water all over you. Supposed to calm you down.” 

 

Bucky let out a horrible groan at the suggestion. His back arched, fighting Steve as though rebelling against the idea.“That… sounds…. Bad,” he ground out. 

 

“But, it might help?” Steve said. “I mean, we could try it? I’d wouldn’t leave, Bucky, I’d be right there, I promise.” 

 

“No,” Bucky said, groaning more.His limbs were really starting to thrash.Steve had never seen him get this bad. 

 

The vibranium fist slammed down and a floor tile shattered, sending up a spray of shards that drove like needles into their left sides. 

 

“Bucky, I know this is hard, but you’ve got to quit it,” Steve said. 

 

“No!” Bucky said. His eyes were wide now, terrified as he struggled to breathe against his growing panic.

 

“Bucky!” Steve shouted. 

 

“Nooo!” Bucky screamed, and with a huge effort, he threw Steve off. 

 

In a flash, Bucky was on his feet, his deadly ingrained skillset taking over his reactions. 

 

In a heartbeat, Steve was fighting for his life. 

 

“Bucky, I’m gonna have to take you down,” Steve warned. 

 

Bucky swung his metal fist, and it flew wild.The new arm was a lot lighter than the old one had been, and Bucky hadn’t been much interested in training to get used to the difference.

 

Steve caught the arm, spun, and forced it behind Bucky’s back.The Wakandans had built the new arm to be compatible with the old should joint, which was deeply rooted into Bucky’s chest and back.The shoulder wouldn’t give, and Bucky couldn’t break the hold.Steve grappled until he got his other arm around Bucky’s neck, and for the second time since their initial reunion, choked him out. 

 

Steve felt the iron tension in Bucky’s body finally give way as he lost consciousness.He only had seconds. 

 

He sprinted with Bucky in his arms to the bathroom and lay him gently in the tub, then ran and grabbed the heavy wool blankets from the linen closet.Quick as he could, he picked Bucky up and wrapped him as tight as he could in the blankets. 

 

“Whuh — no!” Bucky moaned, starting to regain consciousness. 

 

Steve knew Bucky could tear through the blankets, thick as they were in so many layers, so he kept his arms tight around Bucky as he finished wrapping the blankets into place. 

 

Bucky tried to arch his body, but Steve was prepared, with his legs and arms locked into place, and chin tucked down and away from Bucky’s deadly head butts. 

 

Steve managed to turned on the shower to cold, and he held Bucky in place as the cold water rained down to soak into the blankets.It wasn’t that cold.It wasn’t full of ice.It wasn’t the cold of arctic salt water.It wasn’t the cold of the cryo tank.It was just cold enough, maybe, maybe, to slow Bucky down, to give him a chance to calm his fevered brain. 

 

“Argh!” Bucky screamed. 

 

Steve held on. 

 

Bucky fought, but he couldn’t break free.The cold ran down into the blankets and Steve just held on, held on. He lost track of time, holding Bucky fast in his arms, like a young lover who refused to let his beloved be taken. 

 

As last Steve realized that Bucky had stilled. 

 

He pressed his cheek softly against Bucky’s, carefully in case it was a ruse. Bucky’s cheek was cold and wet.

 

“I gotcha,” he said. 

 

“Steve,” Bucky breathed.“Cold.” 

 

“I know,” Steve said, his voice breaking. “Let’s just stay here a while.” 

 

“Didn’t want you … to see me… like this,” Bucky whispered. 

 

“In sickness, and in health, for richer, for poorer, as long as we both shall live,” Steve swore. 

 

“Til death ... do… us part,” Bucky breathed. 

 

“Nah,” Steve said, voice breaking.“Death can’t keep us down.”

 

“You could do … this all day,” Bucky said, voice slow and slurred, but sounding a little calmer. 

 

“You bet I could,” Steve said. 

 

“Cold,” Bucky said. “Stevie.Don’t let go.” 

 

“I won’t let go,” Steve swore.His throat ached from crying. “I’ll never let go.” 

 

“Stevie,” Bucky sighed, and the cold took him down when nothing else could. 

 

Steve didn’t let go, and they made it through till dawn. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky go to therapy to process what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may recognize therapist Theresa Johnstone from other stories (in particular, she is their therapist in "Like a God"). She is such a good therapist I had to bring her in for this, even though the timelines are different in the other stories. 
> 
> Bucky and Steve also saw therapists in Wakanda. Bucky's therapist practices the griot method of traveling in storytime, which really works well for Bucky (see my story, "tattoo"). Steve's therapist hasn't taken him into storytime, but uses the related drumming and walking method. Bucky's therapist decided to move to Brooklyn to continue working with Bucky since he sees him every other day, while Steve sees his therapist, who is still in Wakanda, once a week virtually.

“Who wants to go first?” the therapist asked. 

 

Steve and Bucky were meeting with Theresa Johnstone, the therapist that Sam had recommended because she specialized in veterans’ issues with couples. 

 

After the terrible night they’d had, each of them had gone to their individual therapists the next day to try and process what had happened.Now it was time to talk it over in terms of what it meant to them as a couple. 

 

Bucky and Steve looked at each other. Bucky nodded, a slight dip of his chin towards his left shoulder. 

 

Steve sighed. “I’ll go,” he said. 

 

“The other night Bucky got out of bed in the middle of the night, so I got up too and found him in the kitchen scrubbing the floor.I thought he better come back to bed, but he panicked, and then I ended up wrapping him in blankets and dousing him with cold water.” 

 

Steve frowned.It had all escalated so horribly.But at the same time, Steve didn’t know what he should have done.Bucky had lost control of himself, and Steve had managed to bring him back under control, even though the physical altercation had been pretty serious. 

 

“Do you want to add anything to that story?” Ms. Johnstone asked Bucky. 

 

Bucky took a breath and let it out.“I was having a bad night.I couldn’t sleep.I tried the relaxation exercises and the meditation, but I kept having intrusive thoughts about all the things I’d done and how it was all my fault and how so many people had suffered because of me.It hurt too much to keep on lying there, so I thought I’d at least make myself useful scrubbing the floor, and then Steve came in and wanted me to stop, and I panicked, and things are kind of blurry after that.He wrapped me up and put me under cold water, which was pretty awful, but then, it did kind of work.” 

 

“Thank you, Bucky.Now, we’re going to combine your narratives and go through each thing point by point.” 

 

Ms. Johnstone knew Gregg’s shorthand.Steve had studied it in school, taking the opportunity to learn a valuable skill for free. Unfortunately he hadn’t gotten very good at it because it took so much practice.But Ms Johnstone could transcribe and read back what her patients said, word for word. 

 

“Steve, Bucky was having a bad night.What steps has your therapist recommended for when this occurs?”

 

“I’m supposed to give Bucky his space to process, while at the same time making sure he knows I’m there to support him.” 

 

“Were you able to you keep those goals in mind when you went to the kitchen after Bucky?” 

 

“No,” Steve admitted.“I just wanted him to come back to bed.I did remember to use ‘I’ statements though.” 

 

“That’s a good first step,” Ms Johnstone said, “but it’s certainly not the whole journey.” 

 

“No, ma’am,” Steve agreed. 

 

“If you had left Bucky alone, what do you think might have happened?” 

 

“He might have scrubbed the whole night away?” 

 

“Would that have been such a bad thing?” 

 

“I didn’t know what he was up to.I just went to look for him.” 

 

“What lesson might you take away?” 

 

“I guess, I need to acknowledge that Bucky has his own way of handling things.I don’t think I did wrong to go looking for him — but I’m pretty sure trying to restrain him after he got agitated only made things worse.”

 

“What do you think, Bucky?” she asked. 

 

Bucky smoothed his hair back from where it fell, semi long, in front of his face. “I was glad he came after me and wanted to talk.I wanted him to distract me from the thoughts in my head.”

 

“Have you tried practicing ways to distract yourself from the thoughts, instead of relying on Steve to help you?”Ms. Johnstone asked gently.“It’s never wrong to ask for help, but it’s also important to develop the skills you need on your own.” 

 

“I have tried,” Bucky said.“I try to breathe, and count my breaths, but that doesn’t always work.Sometimes the images are just too strong. But the scrubbing…. it was too easy to imagine I was cleaning up a site after wet work.They didn’t always send a team.Sometimes I was on my own, I had to do the clean up on my own.” 

 

“That must be hard to remember,” Ms. Johnstone said. 

 

“It’s so hard,” Bucky agreed, closing his eyes.“Those missions.So many of them.When it was so empty inside my head.Nothing but the mission, and I couldn’t even think why that was.Until, enough time had passed that I did start to wonder.That nagging thought, underneath it all, that something wasn’t right.I was a sniper, true.But these were civilians, most of them.Why was I shooting civilians? And why didn’t I have a clear chain of command? Just this mission and no clear reason inside my head.They learned, eventually, that I didn’t do well if they tried to make me think “Hail Hydra.” They just imposed this idea that I was bringing order out of chaos. That sounded pretty good, inside my head, until the times when even that wouldn’t hold up.What was I doing, killing people for reasons I didn’t understand, in the name of order? I tried to get away sometimes, abandon the mission, or run away afterwards, but they always found me by the trackers.”

 

“Does the fact that you didn’t understand your missions at the time, make you feel any better or worse?”Ms. Johnstone asked. 

 

“I don’t know,” Bucky said.“That emptiness.Sometimes I even crave it, compared to how sick it makes me feel when I get bogged down in the memories.” 

 

“I’m sorry it’s so painful to process these things,” Ms. Johnstone said.“Are you angry at Steve for what he did two nights ago?” 

 

“No,” Bucky said. “No, I’m really not.” He turned to look at Steve. “Stevie, I’m really sorry I put you through all of that.That had to have been awful for you.” 

 

“Nah,” Steve said, soberly.“Don’t you remember all those times when we were kids, after my ma was gone, and you took care of me when I was sick?Out of my head with fever sometimes, cursing you for a devil? Didn’t I punch you in the nose one time?” 

 

“That you did, Stevie,” Bucky laughed, then looked startled as he realized he and Steve were grinning at each other. 

 

“Recovery isn’t linear,” Ms. Johnstone said. “There will always be bad days.The important thing for the two of you is how you deal with it when those bad days come along — sometimes a string of them at a time.” 

 

“Like I told Buck, I’m in this for the long haul,” Steve said seriously.“I made my vows, and I intend to stand by them, no matter what.” 

 

“What if you feel yourself to be in danger?” Ms. Johnstone asked. 

 

“Huh?” Steve said. 

 

“Punk don’t understand the question, ma’am,” Bucky said aside to the therapist.“Most people have an innate sense of self preservation? He’s got nothin.’ “ 

 

“What, from Buck? I was never in danger,” Steve scoffed. 

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. 

 

“Well, what about Bucky? Was he in danger, then?” she asked Steve. 

 

“Yes,” Steve said, indignant. 

 

“Two super soldiers, evenly matched, but only one of you is in danger?” she pressed. 

 

“Bucky isn’t training. He’s a good match for me when he’s in his right mind — but when he’s panicking, I have the advantage,” Steve said. 

 

“You don’t know that,” Bucky said.“What if I had knifed you, right there in our kitchen?” 

 

“I took you down, didn’t I? And, I kept you down, and no one got hurt,” Steve insisted. 

 

“Everyone take a deep breath,” Ms. Johnstone said.“The evening ended with Bucky restrained and unconscious from hypothermia.” 

 

Steve sat back on the couch, frowning.“He’s fine now.” 

 

“True,” Bucky agreed. 

 

“What about next time?” Ms Johnstone asked. 

 

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, and slowly, Bucky spoke. 

 

“There’s one thing we left out,” he said. 

 

“What?” Ms. Johnstone asked. 

 

Bucky turned to face her, his blue eyes clear and open. “I asked him to.I asked him to hold me down, to get on top of me.” 

 

“He wanted me to hold him, tighter and tighter,” Steve explained.“But then he panicked anyway.” 

 

“Hm,” Ms. Johnstone said, taking a moment.“Is it possible that being restrained added to your feeling of panic?” 

 

“Yeah,” Bucky said, and Steve turned a sad look on him. 

 

“Sorry Buck,” he began, but Bucky was still thinking it through. “No,” Bucky said, “I mean, yeah — being held down — the feeling of being bound — it triggered me to fight, but then — later — when I was wrapped up — it felt good.Like, if I couldn’t get away, I could fight until I gave out, and then give up.The cold helped me give up, I think.I’m just sorry we had to fight to get there.” 

 

“So you’re saying that the wrapping, and the cold, seemed to help?” she asked again. 

 

“It did help,” Bucky said.“As much as I was panicking at the time, overall, it took me down safely, no harm done.” 

 

“This merits thought,” Ms. Johnstone said.“As I said before, Bucky, you should be in charge of you.You need to develop your own skills at calming yourself down.But if you feel your thoughts running away from you, having Steve put you in restraints, voluntarily, might not be a bad solution.” 

 

“Really?” Steve said.“I mean, I gotta admit, I felt pretty bad about it while it was happening.”

 

“The event was very stressful and full of negative emotions at the time,” she agreed, “but if the two of you were better prepared, if you were ready, something like restraints could be a good thing.” 

 

“Bucky said he liked the Chair, and that really shocked me,” Steve said. 

 

“The Chair made everything go away,” Bucky said.“I didn’t like it, but, the guilt was just too much. It was a relief to have it all to go away.” 

 

“And the cold wrapping helped?” She repeated her question. 

 

“Yeah, I think so,” Bucky said. 

 

“Despite all the negative associations the two of you have with ice?” 

 

“My associations with cryo aren’t that negative,” Bucky said.“If they were putting me away, that meant they weren’t sending me out. I wasn’t killing anyone. Wasn’t getting punished. Maybe they’d forget all about me.Maybe I’d never wake up. It sure wasn’t the worst thing they put me through.” 

 

“Well, okay,” she said.“Have you ever heard of weighted blankets?” 

 

They both shook their heads. “No ma’am,” Steve said. 

 

“You should look into it,” she suggested.“Buy several, and see if they improve your quality of sleep. They might also help when you start to feel the need to be held down.” 

 

“Nothing’s gonna hold me down but Stevie,” Bucky said. 

 

“Hm,” Steve said. 

 

“You got that look in your eye, punk,” Bucky said. 

 

“It’s okay,” Steve asked, “if Bucky wants to be held down? I’m not, like, doing something bad to his brain?” 

 

“Not necessarily,” she said.“You know his history of trauma… you want to stay as far away from those types of environments as you can.Make the room pleasant, with soothing music, calming odors, whatever normally would help you feel relaxed. 

 

“That does sound nice,” Bucky said. 

 

Steve smiled at Bucky.“I remember how you always liked to be clean, back when we only had a wash tub and a kettle to heat water in.” 

 

“My ma had a claw footed porcelain tub,” Bucky said.“Her pride and joy, and fancy soap too, we’d get her for special.” 

 

“That sounds promising; you should explore those memories and use those pleasant associations to make yourself feel comfortable.” 

 

Bucky nodded.“Steve just buys the cheapest most old-fashioned soap he can find.Now you say I should go hog wild.Thank you ma’am.” 

 

Steve waved a disgruntled hand at his husband, but he was only playing. 

 

“You gentlemen are doing very well, after such an ordeal,” Ms. Johnstone said.“As long as you’re careful, it seems to me it might be good to explore what you’ve discovered.” 

 

“Will do,” Steve said, and Bucky nodded.Their hands were linked between them on the couch. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky try again.

“So,” Steve said, one night after supper, about a week after what they were calling the Scrubbing Incident.“Are you doing okay?” 

 

They’d finished washing the dishes and they were sitting on the couch, deciding whether to read or watch something. 

 

Bucky sighed.“I don’t know.I mean, my sessions have gone pretty well, I guess. We went into the story time and tried to work through some things, like usual.Bavana says I need to retell the story from my point of view.He says that the way it’s told matters, and if I believe my side of the story, the world will find healing.” 

 

Bavana, Bucky’s Wakandan therapist, had decided to move to Brooklyn to open a practice there, now that Wakanda was ready to share its advanced civilization with the rest of the world. Steve’s own therapist had stayed behind in Wakanda, though they still held regular sessions over the internet.Steve had met Bavana, and liked him a lot, but it was supposedly better for Bucky and Steve to have different therapists, and then meet with Ms. Johnstone to work on their issues as a couple. 

 

“Does it make sense to you, what he tells you?” Steve asked. 

 

“I think so,” Bucky said.“It’s not just what he says, it’s what I see when we journey.It’s vivid.I can see the way things actually happened, what I did… but I’m also there, not as a participant, but as a witness.I can actually watch the Soldier, see what he, I,was made to do — it really brings home that I wasn’t acting on my own volition.” 

 

“And that helps?” Steve asked. 

 

“Yeah,” Bucky said.“Reliving the story from a different perspective, like an omniscient narrator — I think it helps, because when I see what they made me do, I know, in my heart, that I wouldn’t have chosen to do those things if I could have avoided it.And I can forgive myself, because I can see how much I was suffering, how trapped I was.” 

 

“That makes sense,” Steve said.“That’s the way I see it, too.You didn’t choose to do those things, and you weren’t free to do something different.” 

 

“Well,” Bucky said.“It’s still hard though.” 

 

“I know,” Steve said.“But you’re doing so good.” 

 

“I wish I could do better.I wish … I mean, nothing can change the past.What’s done is done.I just wish I could do something to make amends.” 

 

Steve shook his head and kissed Bucky on the cheek, hugging him closer. 

 

“Amends is a noble thought, but in my opinion, you don’t owe anybody anything.You were a prisoner of war, you got captured serving your country. You don’t have to make amends for what they did to you.” 

 

Bucky just nodded, but Steve knew he wasn’t convinced. 

 

When Bucky started thinking this way, about what he owed for the things he’d done, Steve started feeling nervous that he might trigger another downward spiral like the one that had led to the massive panic attack in the kitchen. 

 

On the other hand, Ms. Johnstone had suggested that maybe, Steve and Bucky should talk over the wet blankets idea before things got out of hand — to see whether it was something Bucky might be okay with — something that might actually give him some relief when things got too bad. 

 

Steve decided to ask him. Better to talk it out then spring it on Bucky again in the heat of the moment. 

 

“Do you think you’d ever want to be wrapped up like that again?”

 

“Maybe,” Bucky said.“It was a good feeling, in a way…. sometimes I feel like I’m going to fly apart, and the cold blankets did help that feeling go away.” 

 

“Ms. Johnstone said we should put on nice music,” Steve said. 

 

“I like Bach,” Bucky said.“So peaceful and perfect — but I prefer the ones that are not too fast.” 

 

“I can do Bach,” Steve said, relieved he wasn’t going to have to run through the minefield of Bucky’s reactions to pop music.Steve mostly remembered which songs Bucky had liked from the 20s and 30s, but Bucky also had strong feelings about later songs that were tied in with events he’d been part of. Steve had no way to guess at those strong negative associations, and they were only finding out about them one at a time. At least Bach had not been ruined for Bucky. 

 

“What about the smells thing?” Steve asked. 

 

“The smells thing?” Bucky laughed. 

 

“Ms. Johnstone said to find out which smells you like and, I don’t know, make the room smell good somehow,” Steve said, blushing. 

 

“I know I like lavender and rose,” Bucky said.“And the smell of oranges. Cinnamon.” 

 

Steve asked the internet how to make the room smell like lavender, or other scents, and learned about diffusers, misters, and candles infused with essential oils.He bought a variety of essential oils that Bucky liked, and when they were at the farmer’s market they had a fun time smelling all the different smelling handmade soaps.Bucky cautiously sniffed, and Steve bought the ones that made Bucky happiest. 

 

Bucky was the one who ordered the straps.Steve was surprised when they arrived, and didn’t know what to think. 

 

“I can feel it building up… even though Bavana says I’m doing good — sometimes I just need it all to go away, just for a little.” 

 

Steve understood, but he had one concern. 

 

“Do you think you’ll panic this time?” he asked. 

 

“I don’t think so,” Bucky said.“Because, we’ll start out when I’m still calm… and we’ll use the music, and the good smells.I think, I’m hoping, it’ll help.” 

 

“Okay, just let me know when,” Steve said, but he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous.The last time, Bucky had been pushed beyond his limits, and Steve wasn’t sure the next time would really be that different. 

 

Daily life was usually uneventful for Steve and Bucky, now that Sam was acting as team leader while the Avengers pieced themselves together again.Thor and Bruce had had a crazy space adventure that Steve still didn’t quite understand, so despite the fact that they had avoided the so-called “civil war,” they were still recovering from an ordeal of their own. 

 

The Spider kid was pretty amazing, at least as strong as Steve, and with Sam and Rhodes working together as lead tacticians, the team hadn’t really suffered from Steve’s leave of absence, which let him breathe a sigh of relief. Ant-Manand his partner, the Wasp, were a welcome addition to the team. With Steve, Clint and Natasha available “on reserve,” the Avengers were as strong as ever, especially with Vision and Wanda growing into their powers, at least as powerful as Thor, maybe more. Tony was back on an even keel with Pepper and Bruce nearby. And, of course, now that Wakanda was pursuing a policy of international cooperation, the Black Panther was ready to join in the response to any world-class threats. 

 

Everything had come together to give Steve time to work on his art, time to devote to therapy and figuring himself out, and most important, time to enjoy being with Bucky, to be there while Bucky went through his own process, and just for the two of them to enjoy, as Tony called it, the extended honeymoon.They went to museums, out to dinner, dancing sometimes and out to the movies. They kept to a routine, but one spiced with good times. 

 

The best part for Steve was the simple pleasure of finally having his love and adoration of Bucky out in the open.The fact that he had married Bucky in front of God and their gathered friends meant more to Steve than he could easily convey in words. Steve had pledged to stay with Bucky for the rest of his life, to support Bucky with everything he had in him, and he had never sworn a more heartfelt vow.Living together as husbands wasn’t something he’d ever dared to imagine, even during the six years they had actually lived together before the war.It meant so much to Steve, just going to sleep with Bucky beside him and opening his eyes to the same beautiful sight in the first light of dawn.To prepare simple meals together, take care of the house, and make fun plans for things they’d enjoy doing together — Steve couldn’t imagine anything better.Maybe some day he’d want to return full time as an Avenger, but that wasn’t a decision he’d make on his own.He’d decide that together with Bucky, when and if the time came. 

 

in the mean time, Bucky was doing really well. He met with Bavana and worked through his memories of things he’d done as the Soldier. There were good days, and bad days, and Steve did his best to offer Bucky whatever support he needed — comfort food, cuddles, quiet time — it was all good to Steve.His own therapist was happy with his progress, though she often reminded Steve not to take on too many of Bucky’s struggles as his own, which Steve thought was easier said than done. 

 

Most people would have found it hard to read the moods of the former Winter Soldier. His face was still and blank most of the time.Bucky’s emotions were real, and strong, but he had learned the hard way to keep them hidden.Even for Steve, trying to read that stony expression could prove a challenge. 

 

It was more in what Bucky didn’t say that Steve read his clues. 

 

Steve was looking over the reviews of a new exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum of Art. “You want to go see this exhibit about the civil rights movement?” Steve asked. 

 

“Maybe,” Bucky said. 

 

Steve looked closer.Bucky’s face was carefully schooled, but his gaze was down and that was never a good sign.It meant he was feeling things he was afraid of. 

 

“We can just go to the sculpture garden,” Steve offered. 

 

“Okay,” Bucky said, but he didn’t really look up. 

 

Steve and Bucky walked among the ornamental figures, holding hands, but Bucky seemed a little absent. Afterwards, they stopped at one of Bucky’s favorite spots, a little deli that was mostly unchanged since the 20s when they were kids, but Bucky ate his corned beef mechanically and didn’t even chide Steve for choosing celery over black cherry soda. 

 

Steve felt like maybe the time had come. 

 

“Hey Buck,” he said, after they’d watched TV for a while that evening. 

 

“Yeah?” Bucky said. 

 

“You wanna, maybe, try the thing, with the blankets?” 

 

Bucky drew a deep breath and let it all out in a deep sigh.“Yeah.I think I would.” 

 

“Okay,” Steve said.“Okay then.” 

 

Together they went into the bedroom and Steve spread out the heavy blankets on the bed along with the cordura straps Bucky had ordered.Bucky lay down on the blankets and breathed.Steve knew he was counting his inhales and exhales like his therapist had taught. 

 

“You want me to put on the Bach?” Steve asked. 

 

“I made a playlist,” Bucky said. 

 

“You are so smart,” Steve said, and Bucky smiled, just a little, which eased Steve’s worries as he wrapped the blankets tight and fastened the straps. 

 

Bucky tensed up a little as Steve cinched the blankets, but he didn’t try to thrash. 

 

“Do you want any smells?” Steve asked. 

 

“I think the rose?” Bucky said, so Steve misted a bit of essential oil into the air. 

 

“Is it okay?” Steve asked.The playlist was playing some beautiful harp music with a soft jazzy, world beat feeling. 

 

“Mmm,” Bucky said.His brow was still furrowed. 

 

Steve waited a little while. 

 

“Do you need the cold?” Steve asked. 

 

“I just need, I need to get out of my head, I’m sorry,” Bucky murmured. “I’m sorry, Steve.” 

 

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve said, his heart aching. “We’re ready for it this time, no problem.Okay?” 

 

“Yeah,” Bucky answered softly.“Just do it.” 

 

Steve carried Bucky in his bundle to the tub and turned on the water.The sound of the water falling from the rain shower head was peaceful and seemed to lull Bucky.The water fell down and soaked into the blankets, cooling Bucky’s temperature down and down.A normal human would have fallen into a dangerous hypothermia as the time passed — but Steve kept a close eye on Bucky for any distress. 

 

“Is it okay? How do you feel?” Steve asked. 

 

“Good,” Bucky whispered, just a breath.“Cold.Peace….. peaceful.” 

 

After another while, Bucky’s eyes fell shut and he didn’t answer Steve anymore. His pulse was still beating in his throat, even and regular, slow and steady. 

 

Bucky’s face was pale with cold as his blood retreated to his core.It shook Steve a little, but he held to their plan. He shut off the water and waited for Bucky to stir. 

 

The cold blankets held him down and under for a while, but at last he opened his eyes. 

 

“Stevie,” he said, and smiled, just a small smile of greeting. 

 

Steve found himself near tears at Bucky’s easy smile. 

 

“Hey Buck, you ready to get out of that.” 

 

“In a while,” Bucky said. 

 

So Steve waited some more, until Bucky said he was ready to be let out. 

 

Steve dried off his husband’s chilled body, draped him in a dry fluffy blanket, and led him back to the bedroom.He gave him a nice drink of water and his favorite gingerbread cookie. 

 

Bucky fell asleep in Steve’s arms, still and serene. Steve breathed slow and easy, focusing on the blessing of having Bucky alive and getting better every day. 

 

Steve must have fallen asleep at some point, because the morning came and he opened his eyes to find Bucky already awake. 

 

“Good morning,” Bucky said with a smile. 

 

“Morning, Buck,” Steve returned. 

 

Bucky moved closer and took Steve in a soft, but possessive kiss.His lips were warm and sweet against Steve’s, and his arms reached out to pull Steve to him, entwining them together even closer than they habitually slept. 

 

Steve let Bucky kiss him, relaxing into the love that poured out of his husband. 

 

“I want you,” Bucky whispered.“Is that okay?” 

 

“Yes,” Steve said.“I always want you, always, always.” 

 

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world, then,” Bucky smiled. 

 

Morning lovemaking was gentle and slow.Steve felt languorous and heavy, enjoying the feeling of Bucky’s two hands roaming over his skin, one warm and so familiar, one new and made of vibranium, just as skilled and dextrous as the other.Bucky’s long thick hair trailed across Steve’s skin like strands of silk as Bucky kissed him here and there.Steve was so relaxed by the time Bucky pressed his warm fingers inside that it took no time at all for him to be open and ready.Steve shivered as Bucky pushed in, just where Steve wanted him.Having Bucky deep inside him felt so right, complete, like everything was perfect in the world, with Bucky right there, moving inside him in a dance as old as love itself. 

 

“Mm, I love you, Stevie,” Bucky whispered. 

 

“Love you too,” Steve answered, gasping, as Bucky took him harder and he began to fall apart. 

 

“Oh, Steve,” Bucky cried out, as he thrust deep and hard into Steve, and Steve clenched down like a vise and came for Bucky with a shout. 

 

They held each other, catching their breath. 

 

“I’ll fight you for the title of luckiest guy,” Steve said. 

 

“I’ll win,” Bucky said, with his crooked little smirk. 

 

“It’s on,” Steve said, grinning back, a good start to a fresh new day. 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.archives.gov/publications/prologue/2010/summer/institutional.html  
> Here is a photo of patients wrapped up for hydrotherapy at St. Elizabeth's, Washington DC.


End file.
